


Broken Glass

by a_nonny_moose



Series: 100 Quote Prompts [23]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Bim needs some comfort.





	Broken Glass

"Stop saying you're worthless, because you're not!"

"Shut up! Just--" Bim balled his hands into fists, shaking. Wilford jumped forwards, grabbing Bim's hands in his own, pushing Dr. Iplier behind him. 

"Bim..." Dr. Iplier poked his head over Wilford's shoulder, looking worried. 

Wilford had never been the best at dealing with emotions, much less Bim's emotions. When a video Bim was working on decided to adhere to Murphy's Law, and Bim broke down in tears, Wilford's first thought was to get someone used to handling these kinds of things.

* * *

"Doc! DOC!"

"Wilford, I'm kind of busy--"

"It's Bim, please--"

"...what've you done this time?"

* * *

Bim was struggling against Wilford, head lowered in frustration. "Let me _go_ , I'm not going to hurt anyone else--"

"What about yourself?" Wilford snapped, grip tightening. Bim tried one last time to wrench himself away from Wilford before sagging into him, tears falling fast. 

"Bim," the Doctor said, voice gentle. "Can I--"

"Give him a sec, Doc," Wilford muttered, awkwardly holding Bim against him. 

Dr. Iplier sighed a little, sitting back on his heels. He'd never seen Bim like this, so broken, so upset. Poor kid, he thought to himself. 

Wilford gingerly patted Bim on the back, finally letting go of his hands. Bim reeled back a little, scooting away from Wilford and Dr. Iplier. 

Wilford looked to the Doctor, lost. "I don't know what to do," he said, voice hushed under Bim's shaking, steadying breaths. 

"You don't need to _do_ anything," Bim choked out, curling himself into a ball like a clenched fist. His voice was bitter, and both Wilford and the Doctor flinched back in surprise. 

"I'm not some kid that needs to be looked after," Bim spat, tears still running down his face, eyes full of fire. "I'm upset because everyone thinks I'm some _cinnamon roll_ , something they need to protect, some sensitive, emotional _freak_."

Wilford was at a loss for words, for once. "I just wanted to help," he started to say. 

"I don't care," Bim growled back, wiping his nose. "I don't _need_ your help."

Dr. Iplier saw his opening, and jumped for it while Bim was sniffling. "Bim, even if you don't _need_ help, there's no shame in asking for it." His heart was in his throat, praying Bim didn't shut him out. Bim deserved help, even if he wouldn't ask for it. 

"I'm not something you can fix, Doc." There was almost a sick kind of humor to his words, and Bim twisted his face into a smile that was more of a grimace. 

"I don't want--" --to fix you, he was going to say, but Bim shook his head. 

"Because that's what you do. You fix people. I don't _do_ anything."

The words stung, and Dr. Iplier grasped at straws for a retort. 

"You're an entertainer, Bim, you have a show--"

"So does Wilford." He'd stopped crying, sat up, and was snapping at him like a cornered animal. "And obviously, he's the channel's _icon_. I'm nothing."

Wilford sputtered, caught off guard. 

Dr. Iplier found his voice with an unexpected cruelty. "Fine, Bim. I fix people, sure. But I can't fix _you_." 

Bim visibly flinched at the words, face flushed, eyes hard. Wilford whipped around to look at the Doctor in sudden disbelief, anger welling in his chest. 

"You're not broken, Bim. You don't _need_ to be fixed." A surge of emotion hit him, then, and tears rose to the Doctor's eyes. Bim was one of them, dammit-- he was the laughter that echoed down the hall at 2am, the flirtatious winking that had Wilford at everyone's throats. 

He was so much more than _worthless_ , and it broke Dr. Iplier's heart. 

Wilford, knife half drawn, saw the impact of the Doctor's words. Bim went from snarling wolf to hurt puppy in a matter of seconds, eyes softening. 

"D-d'you really think so?" He was trying to be bitter, condescending, but it came as a plea. 

"Of course, Bim," Wilford said, frowning. The two of them had the biggest egos in the office, besides Mark himself. It had never occurred to Wilford that Bim needed outside reassurance. "I mean, look at everything you've _done_."

"Shut up," Bim sniffled a little, biting. 

"I mean it." Wilford was more sincere than the Doctor had ever seen him. "Your editing, the props, the script-writing-- Warfstache TV would be nowhere without you!"

"It still is nowhere," Dr. Iplier muttered, so only Wilford could hear him. He ignored Wilford staring daggers to scoot closer to Bim, huddled in a heap on the floor. "We mean it, Bim," he said, tucking a hand around Bim's shoulders. "You mean a lot, to us."

Wilford, prompted by the Doctor, awkwardly shuffled forward to put a hand on Bim's knee. Between the two of them, they sandwiched Bim in comfort.

* * *

"Wilford, have you seen--"

Google_G stopped in the doorway of the studio, first shocked, then smiling. 

Wilford, Bim, and the Doctor were squished in a heap in the corner, happily dozing on each others' shoulders. Bim looked as content as Google_G had ever seen him. 

Quietly, he snapped a picture, then backed out of the room.


End file.
